


That MANdo

by myriadofcolors37



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Helmet stays ON during Sex, Technically a bit dubcon because she IS a bounty but she wants it and so does he
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26481568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriadofcolors37/pseuds/myriadofcolors37
Summary: The Mandalorian catches a bounty who offers to have sex with him, not to get away but to have a bit of fun instead of terror.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	That MANdo

**Author's Note:**

> I'll fill out the tags and stuff after I get coffee. Hasn't been edited. Written mostly just for the smut and the emotional investment I put into these characters.

It wasn't hard finding the bounty. Avaath Marschi. Human, dark hair, late 20s. Wanted by the Gzan Gang, for running out on her debts. She was on some cold mountainous planet called Kijimi, riddled with underground and illicit dealings. It was a surprise no one had found her first, to be honest. The Mandalorian followed his tracker, keeping his feet careful around the crates, people, animals, and dubious fluids on the ground, until he found a modest cantina with laser slats across the windows, prohibiting any access in or out of the cantina. He entered, and conversation lulled as everyone turned and stared at him. Keeping his sighs to himself, he scanned the customers and found no trace of his prospect. 

It wasn't until the woman came back from the back of the cantina, rounding the corner of the bar before she got a look at him. She wore her hair in braids that were gathered on the back of her head, and an apron over shapeless clothes. His tracker beeped madly and he started towards her. “Avaath Marschi.” 

The acquisition gasped and threw a wet towel on the floor in front of him, before sprinting back to the back. He stepped the towel easily, keeping his eye on the open door- but only barely missing a dangling tentacle. He looked around to see customers with their legs out, meaning to trip him, everyone staring pointedly at him. He sighed and gestured with his blaster, pointing to the ceiling. “Don’t get in my way,” he threatened, beginning to walk towards the back. Most of the legs and other body extremities were pulled away, but they glared at him all the same. That’s fine, he thought, glare all you want.

When he got to the kitchen and pantry, he found a Dug and a Snivvian glaring at him, arms still soaking with dish water. “Where did she go?” The Mandalorian demanded, gripping his blaster. 

“Dunno,” the Dug whined, but the Snivvian couldn’t help but look to the metal door, where a dirty clumps of snow had been kicked out. Mando glanced around briefly, satisfied that she wasn’t hiding behind the sink or jars of alcohol, and dashed outside. He found himself on a tiny paven alley, and to his left, the acquisition far at the end of it. She pivoted, braids flying in a spray, and they caught eyes-- before she dashed into the crowd.

Well, shit. 

He ran as fast as he could to catch her, and was almost always just far enough out of reach- and she was getting further with every turn. She turned left, then right, then onto the main road again, and ducked into a market where aggressive merchants yelled at him to buy a carpet. He pushed past them, muttering, “Move, move” to little luck. She was far ahead of him now, just exiting the market, and then she turned the corner and he lost visual on her. 

He groaned, and shot the ground, scattering barkers and sellers away. They cleared the path

\---

Avaath Marschi panted as she hid against some crates in the main road, breath fogging in the murky stinking air. She should have jogged more-- she always knew this day was coming. She saw a glimmer of hope the longer it took for him to find her. Maybe it wouldn’t come to what she feared. If she ran over three more blocks she can find a shuttle, convince someone to pretend to be her spouse and buy her ticket and get off this planet.

She took a deep breath and leapt from her hiding spot--

-but was snatched by an armored arm around her waist and the impact of hard metal behind her back. The breath wooshed out of her when she felt a blaster under her chin. "Avaath Marschi, I can take you in hot, or I can take you in cold," said the Mandalorian. "But I will take you in regardless." 

Fuck. "Okay," she said, nodding against his chest. "I'll go with you." 

Once onboard the ship, the Mandalorian did not offer much in the way of conversation. Didn't offer any, at all, not even a courtesy instruction like "I have a chess set under that cushion" or something like that. He merely sat her down behind him in the cockpit, informed an older man via hologram that he “had the acquisition, he’s coming back now,” and then kept silent as they flew out of the atmosphere and into the emotionless breadth of space. 

It was going to be a very, very long trip to Cantonica. And Avaath was incredibly bored. Well, bored, and desperate to get out, and terrified of what will happen when she got back home. She sighed- she had hoped that they had forgotten her. In Kijimi she had made friends, had a little bed in a hut she shared with four other people, and now all of that would be gone for good. 

She eyeballed the Mandalorian. She heard the rumors- everyone did- about the Mandalorians, how they can't reveal their faces, no matter what. Maybe that was the case for ALL of his clothes. Would that mean that he was untried in the ways of sex? Maybe she could convince him otherwise, convince him not to send her back to Kevtuck and the Gzan Gang. 

It was a stupid risk, and a stupid move, and she knew any wrong move might actually get her killed. Before she was given to the Gzan Gang to be killed. 

What's a chance if I don't take it, right? She thought before clearing her throat. "How long till we're in Cantonica?" She asked, conversationally. 

To her surprise, he answered. "We're not going to Cantonica, we're headed for Nevarro." 

That was a second surprise. If she was brought to Nevarro, that must mean the Gzan Gang wanted to deal with her off-world, which... could only lead to bad things, probably. "How long will it take for us to get there?"

"Two days," he said, and fell silent once more. 

She hummed. "That's a long way away," she replied, as if it just occurred to her. "How much did they offer for you to take me?"

He did not say anything. She was not terribly shocked. "I'm sure you get a lot of bounties offering you credits to pay off their debts, keep them alive. Me, I can't say the same. I don't have any credits, not on the pittance I got on Kimiji. Unfortunately that was my problem too on Cantonica- too little credits."

Still, nothing. It was a bit like monologuing in a play, she thought, but to a deaf crowd. 

"It's not that I took out a loan," she admitted. "I just... fell into a bad crowd. I was young, and stupid." It was easier talking to her knees, her handcuffed wrists, then look at his helmet, oddly. "They bought me things. Nice things! Fancy things. And I fell in love with them, even while I was dating their leader. The things, I mean. I knew it, too, but when you're young you conflate the two, make you feel... I don't know. Like the good times will never be gone? It felt like racing at the time... So of course I was bound to crash." She took a breath. “Kevtuck was a jealous lover, and would make me afraid if I so much as looked at someone else. I was so afraid and so glittery..." Her voice trailed off. She couldn't tell if this was for the dramatics anymore, or for herself. The Mandalorian still did not act as if he had heard her, or was listening in the silence. When his head dipped or shifted, it was only to find some little switch or meter, things she had never learned to read. 

She took a deep breath and kept talking. "I ran away. Only took enough credits to see that I could find some other planet, somewhere else where Kevtuck wouldn't be able to find me..." She laughed, hollowly. "I didn't expect that he'd hire someone else to do the job for him or I would have gone further." She blinked away the tears that gathered- so fucking close to living free and so fucking far from the truth, that she only had a year to live outside of Kevtuck's circle before she was back in. Part of her wanted to stomp a foot and whine it wasn't fair, but the cold, tired, and far too sensible part of her knew it would never be fair. 

Still, her voice cracked when she said, "I know you're going to give me to Kevtuck. I know you're not going to let me go. But..." She took a breath and scooted closer to the Mandalorian. "Can you give me one thing? Before I die?"

"Back up," he said, and she scurried back to her seat. And surprising her yet again, he asked, "What do you want?" 

Here was her chance. Breathlessly, she said, "I'd like one last good fuck before I go."

The Mandolorian startled, and finally swivelled his helmet around to look at her. "What?"

"I know I'm going to die," she replied. "Probably painfully. I want to have something good to think about while it's happening. And seeing as we have two days, that's two days that can be alleviated by making- well, not LOVE, but having fun."

He swivelled around again, this time sighing audibly. "No."

"Please?" She asked. "Don't tell me you get that many offers that you can just ignore this one."

"I get enough," he said. "Stop asking."

"I don't believe that you take any of those up. I think you’ve probably never laid with anyone." 

He sighed again, but now Avaath had an idea of his personality behind the mask. "That's it, isn't it? You can't take off your armor for anyone, so you just steam in there, never having a chance to release some tension. And you are tense," she added. "Don't try to deny it."

"I'm on the job. Of course I'm tense." His shoulders tensed once more. 

"I can make you untense," she offered. "I'm pretty good with my hands." She moved them as if she were holding a vital part of anatomy, and moved them up and down vigorously. 

The Mandalorian glanced back, but shook his head. "Enough." He looked back to his steering. "Stop talking. I'm not going to... to do that. With you."

Well, there goes that plan. She slumped in her seat and sighed deeply. She eyeballed the blaster on his hip, considered his speed, and disregarded that idea. "You said you can bring me in alive or dead, right?"

He grunted. "They want you brought in alive, but they'll take a lower price if you're dead."

"Hm." They'd want to make an example of her. No one runs away from Kevtuck and the Gzan Gang. 

The Mandalorian answered back in kind with a final hum, and they flew in silence for a long while. 

\----

Mando discreetly stretched his neck and shoulders as he kept his eyes focused ahead, trying to look very authoritative and disinterested in conversation. But when he chanced a glance back to his prisoner, she was asleep, half curled into her chair (which he knew was not quite comfortable) and her head propped on the thick glass separating her from the greedy vacuum of space by a mere three inches. A testament to his smooth flying. He kicked it in autopilot.

She looked soft and vulnerable, and he had the strangest urge to tuck her into bed and wish her goodnight. It was odd that she would be that vulnerable to the man who had done nothing but attack her. He shook his head, sighing to himself, and kicked the sole of her boot. “Hey. Get up.” 

She startled awake, wide eyes wild and alarmed, but when she looked at him, and looked around her, she grunted. “Right.” 

“We’re going to bed.” At her brightened smile, he clarified, “We’re going to sleep. Come.” 

She still gave him that bright smile, and winked. “Anytime.” 

It was all Mando could do to not groan. 

He revealed the small hammock, held up by two metal poles about a foot from the ground, next to the carbon-freezer and cargo. She sat down next to him, giving her wrists up to him as he clipped her handcuffs to the accompanying pole. Mando was glad for the helmet and armor--he didn’t want to have to feel her warmth next to him as she watched in interest. Finally he stood up and told her, “Stay here until I come to get you.” 

“But what if I have to use the vac tube?” She asked, sitting awkwardly on the cot. 

“Do you have to?” 

“I do.”

Mando uncuffed her once again, and nodded to the open vac tube. “It’s right there.” He turned around pointedly as she relieved herself, ears tuned to her motions. When she was done, he turned back around and redid the whole cuffing process. “Okay. Goodnight,” he said, and rolled his eyes at his own awkwardness. “If you move, I’ll hear you.” 

She clanked her handcuffs against the pole. “I have no doubt that you will,” she retorted, and looked around. “Where will you be?”

“In my quarters,” he said tersely. “Stay here.” He left without waiting for a response, but thought he heard a “Sure thing!” He turned off the main lights with a smirk, leaving only the dim emergency lights. 

Back in his quarters, he took off his helmet with a tired sigh. He ate a quick protein cube with relief, and unclipped the weapons belt from his hip. Technically he should sleep with it on, in case of… well, anything that could happen to a bounty hunter in open space, but especially harboring a dangerous criminal. Like Avaath. 

Shit. He really should have fed her. But… did it matter if she was just going to die in a few days anyways? 

Really, he shouldn’t be thinking about her as a person at all. She was an acquisition, and she had no rights like a person did to kindness or food. That was the unwritten bounty hunter’s code. And even though there might be some workings around the others, this rule was clear. She was not a person, she was an acquisition. It was foolish of him not to shove her into the carbon freezer as soon as she meekly boarded, or even now. But it was too late now for that, too ridiculous, and he did not want to look her into her defeated eyes just to see them later. Damn it all, he listened to her story, listened to her genuine sorrow, and now he felt… something. He could have sworn that his heart had died years ago, that under his armor there was meat and bone and blood but no heart anymore, that had been cut out at some point or another. But no- there it was. 

And he had fucked this whole thing up. 

He groaned again, and put on his helmet before finding another protein cube and walking out of his quarters in the darkened cabin. Avaath had settled down on the cot and was lying on her stomach, so the first thing he saw was her lovely ass upturned, which he tried very hard to ignore (but what was the harm? She couldn’t see where he was looking). She turned around as best she could and arched an eyebrow, barely opening her mouth before Mando placed the protein cube in her cuffed hands. “Eat this. Slowly. Try not to choke on it.” 

She snorted, but looked at it hungrily. She sat up, staring at Mando. “The only assurance that this isn’t poisoned is knowing that you get more credits with me alive than dead,” she said. She gripped the cube tighter. 

“Yes,” he replied. “...but I didn’t poison it. It would defeat the purpose of chaining you up.”

“Aw! Romantic poetry during dinner,” she replied, and hunched over, tearing into the protein cube with her teeth. Little sighs of satisfaction escaped her. 

Mando was quick to leave her to her meal. 

Finally finished with his evening routine, he sighed with relief and sank into his own cot, although much more comfortable than the one Avaath was cuffed to. (He had tested it during some run one time and found his neck tweaked uncomfortably. And the wall of carbon frozen bounties was spooky, even for him.) He listened to Avaath finish her meal and then squeakily find a good position before staying still. 

He had had offers before, of course. It just came with the territory. Usually he shepherded them to carbon freeze so they would stop bothering him. But usually they were much more aggressive, desperate to change his mind however they could. (Hands groping his chestplate, his pauldron, his codpiece before he had had enough of it.) Avaath’s offer was… different. Of course she was still using it as a way to manipulate him, and of course it wasn’t honorable, this kind of lovemaking. To take a handcuffed woman, regardless of how much she claimed to want it, made Mando feel like his entire insides were made of filth. 

He wouldn’t take her. No matter what she said. Or how much he wanted her. 

Closing his eyes, as if to keep his thoughts secret enough to himself, he thought of her plump ass, the graceful slope of her back, and her bright brown eyes, of his hand holding her hair back as he pounded into her, of her moaning as he held her breasts. He thought of every position he’d ever seen in a hologram and considered her in every one, and from his imagination, there wasn’t one she wasn’t interested in. 

The cot outside creaked as the real Avaath maneuvered herself, and Mando’s eyes shot wide open, like she had heard his terrible thoughts. 

He groaned, and closed his eyes again, wanting very badly to go to sleep as soon as possible before he could consider anymore about her breasts. 

(Yes, he did have a vague thought about masturbation. That wasn’t as awful as most other ways of slaking a thirst, but his ministrations could be overheard, and that was not what he wanted her to hear, to think he wanted her.) 

(Yes, he could admit to himself that he wanted her, wanted the mutual collision of bodies yearning for completion.) 

(And yes, he had had sex before. Just because he couldn’t take off his helmet didn’t mean that he couldn’t take off his armor as well. There was just… different circumstances that the Tenets allowed for. Bodily functions was a need, and sexual release was one of those bodily functions.) 

He drifted off to sleep, his ears trained on her occasional shift of position and the snores that started before it all began to fade away. 

__

Avaath slept fitfully, aware of every last creak in her handcuffs and the strain on her shoulders as she tried her very best to be comfortable. Holding her wrists above her head was uncomfortable to say the least. Finally she settled in the fetal position, her head on her shoulder and close to her wrists.

When she woke, she stayed that way, staring out into the cargo hold of the Mandalorian’s ship. There were sheets of gray matter she couldn’t quite identify in the dim lights, but they hung from a metal rack and tapped into each other on occasion. Otherwise, there were crates, and… not much else. The Mandalorian was as sparse with his decoration as he was with his conversation. She sighed. She was never going to crack that metal nut, as far as he was concerned. He was too... Untouchable. Invulnerable. 

She was going to die. 

Avaath closed her eyes, trying to stem back the tears she felt crawling up. She was going to die, and she wasn’t even going to have a last grace before she did. She was going to be dumped on Kevtuck’s lap and- and-- 

She couldn’t help the tears now, shaking as quietly as she could. But the years of being Kevtuck’s girl had taught her how to cry silently, how to be next to someone but not, how to wipe your nose on your pillow and say it was drool…

The Mandalorian noisily jostled into the little hallway, and turned to the vac tube. Avaath froze, fascinated, but apparently his armor worked like everyone else’s-- with a sly pocket to unleash his prized possession. She looked away again, and wiped her nose and cheeks as best she could, given the circumstances. She sat up and tried her best to look cheerful and not rumpled to hell. Men liked a cheerful woman. 

The Mandalorian finished his business and walked back to her. “Good morning,” he said. “Did you sleep alright?” 

“Like a dream,” she replied, surprised by the gentleman-like way he was treating her. “Did you?” 

“Yes,” he said, and uncuffed her wrists. “Use the vac tube. Are you hungry?”

Her stomach rumbled. “I could eat,” she admitted, and rubbed her wrists before standing up next to him and stretching her poor cramped back. She stretched this way and that, trapping him behind her in the small hallway. Realizing her wonderful opportunity, she groaned and bent at the waist with her legs spread as wide as she could go, before bending her back round like a Lothcat and convex like a Fathier. She didn’t look behind her before straightening up. “I needed that good stretch,” she commented cheerily. He said nothing, of course, but instead turned still when she looked back at him. She smiled-- it might be working after all-- and went to use the vac tube. Again, he turned away as she relieved herself, but stayed close in case she tried to run. Smart, but where would she run to?

When she finished he handed her another protein cube and a metal cask. “Water,” he said, and she drank greedily from it. Space travel always made her so incredibly thirsty. She gasped for breath and grinned openly at the Mandalorian, handing it to him. “Thanks.”

He didn’t respond, just nodded. “Keep it. Drink what you need." He reached to grab her before he hesitated and gestured up to the cockpit. "Follow me."

He climbed the ladder (and Avaath had a fun time imagining his ass behind the cape) and watched as she climbed up, holding the cask under her arm and the protein cube in her mouth.

Silly, but it got the job done. 

She sat back down in the same chair she sat in (and dozed in) yesterday, eating the protein cube with relish, as the Mandalorian sat back down at the controls. 

Avaath continued to gnaw at the protein cube, relieved and surprised by the lack of handcuffs, but was no fool, she wasn’t going to mention it. She did take a break from her chewing to ask, “So, you already had breakfast?” 

“Yes,” said the stoic helmet in front of her. 

“Don’t like company for breakfast?” She asked, swallowiing before asking, “Or is it the helmet? You can’t eat with that thing on, can you?”

“It’s the helmet,” he replied, flipping on a switch. “"So it's true, then. The rumor that you never take off your helmet." 

"Not in front of living beings," he added. 

"So you could for dead beings?" 

He didn’t answer. That’s fair, it was a dumb question. 

“Why can’t you take it off in front of non-living beings?” She asked, finishing her cube up and licked her palms before wiping her hands on her breeches. 

“Because if we do, we’re never allowed to put our helmets on again,” he said. “It is the way.”

That had some ring as a chant to it-- which meant it was significant to him. “So you can't even take off your helmet for someone you really liked? Not even for a kiss?”

He shifted, but said nothing. 

“You can’t, can you? Hm. That’s a sad life, in my opinion-- never seeing the face of someone you loved,” she mused. 

He twitched--that meant something for sure. 

“What about your armor? Can you take that off?” 

“No,” he replied. 

“So you’ve never taken off your helmet or armor?” She asked. “In front of anyone?” 

He didn’t respond, but from her corner of the cockpit she could see his elbows tense into his sides. 

“It’s okay if you haven’t,” she tried to sound reassuring, and not annoying as hell. “I bet you’re very handsome under your suit,” she tried. 

“I don’t need to be handsome,” he said. “That is the point of the helmet, that I am judged by my combat alone.” 

“You’re very strong,” she complimented easily. “And fast! I don’t know how you managed to find me.” 

He sighed again, and turned to face her in her seat. “Stop this,” he commanded, and Avaath found herself tightening pleasantly at a good quiet command. His shoulders slumped, and he stood up to tower above her. “Your hands,” he said, and she relinquished them to him. He handcuffed her--again-- but this time Avaath noticed more subtleties about his person. The smell of body heat, trapped in armor. The tension in his side as he bent over her, tying her hands together. And his hands-- efficient in their tying, but held her hands for a half moment before dropping them.

She didn’t know what to call it yet. But Avaath thought that it might be working.   
____

Mando was determined to ignore her for the rest of the flight. They were nearly a day’s travel out, but if he burned a little extra fuel they might actually get there in ten hours instead of fourteen. Not for the first time he wished he could hyperspeed, but that was too much fuel. So he would just have to ignore her. (And ignore all of the feelings in his gut and perking of his cock as he had held her hands, warming him even through his gloves, ignore the small smile she gave when he told her to stop. Ignore. Her.)

He went back to steering the ship and busied himself with flying, focusing on going just slightly faster. He would refuel on Nevarro with the credits that the her bounty would give him, and he’d have enough to find another job somewhere else, and this time, he would throw them into the carbon freeze without a second thought. He tried his best to clear his mind of her, just focused on flying the ship. It almost worked, but then Avaath (the Acquisition) (Avaath) took a deep breath and started talking. 

“I’m really going to miss Kijimi, I think. It was a fun place to live, and I had some friends there. I lived with four of them in a tiny hut, and it was tiny and cramped when we were all there, but it was fun. Someone would bring food, I’d bring drinks, we’d talk and have fun until it was back to go to work.” She paused for a short while, before continuing, “I had a corner of the house that was all my own, and I had found some little plants that no one wanted at a discount, so I took them home and brought them back to life. They were the most beautiful things when they were loved, violet and red flowers with green thorns and fat leaves full of liquid. I never quite got the name right of what they were called, iridis ranol something or other, but they were beautiful.”

She paused for a longer time, almost to the point where Mando thought that she was going to stop talking. But then she took another breath and continued. 

“I had a few friends at work. Customers I loved, who loved me, people I felt I could rely on. There was this old Boosodian who would tell me the worst jokes I’ve ever heard and tip me well if I laughed. I usually did,” she confessed, “I love puns. There was one that went “How do you unlock doors on Kashyyyk?’” She paused. Mando didn’t answer. “With a woo-key!” She chortled happily, and Mando glanced back to see that she looked incredibly pleased with herself. She caught his gaze and smiled. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?” 

“Horrible,” Mando agreed, and turned back around. “I hope he tipped you well for that one.” 

“I had tears rolling down my face, I was laughing so hard,” she replied, still laughing. “He bought me lunch that day.” She paused again. “Would you like to hear another one?” 

“No, I would not.” He said this with finality, hoping to end the conversation there. 

“That’s fair. They’re all really bad. The thing with bad jokes is that you need to tell them to people as soon as you’ve heard them, share in the misery and cunning.” She paused, and this time Mando wondered if this was not a ploy of some sort, before she launched into a story about the people she worked around, the place around the corner who made the best lunches, who always gave her dinner for a discount if she helped wash some dishes, the places she’d seen and people she met. Mando wondered about her time in Kijimi, how it could have been so great when all he had heard about it was the violent criminal underground. And snow.

But she kept talking, and Mando, despite himself, kept listening. He tried to tune her out-- honest he did-- but run after run after run of having no companions to talk to made it that much harder to ignore when there was someone there. 

“...And I said that no one could get past a Mudhorn with a vibroknife, but he swore he could, so I said he should go and try it then, and then he made excuses until he finally never went and we all stopped caring about it,” she said, barely taking a breath before Mando jumped in.

“It’s a good thing he didn’t, Mudhorns have a hide that’s thick and tough like rock. Your friend would have died.”

She chuckled. “I know! He was being an idiot. Have you ever fought a Mudhorn?” 

“No, and I hope I never have to,” he replied. “I know when it is an impossible challenge.”

“So what isn’t an impossible challenge? How many could you take out before you start worrying?” 

“I never worry,” he replied. “I’ve taken out squads before, and more if I have some back up.”

“So modest!” She said with a teasing lilt. Mando couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not. “And I bet you rarely have back up, right?” 

“Hmm,” he replied, suddenly realizing that he was giving out combat information, things she could use against him. “Sometimes. But I’m capable on my own.” 

“I bet you are! You found me pretty well,” she replies. 

“Well, you were easy to find and capture.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and suddenly it was stark again that he was her jailkeeper, she his prisoner, and he felt sick again. 

“Well, I didn’t make it too easy for you,” she teased. “Next time I’ll have a blaster, and we’ll really have some fun then.”

“Hmm,” he replied, realizing he didn’t know what else to say. 

It was silent again. Everything in him was tense-- his jaw hurt from clenching his teeth-- and then Avaath sighed. 

“I don’t hate you for capturing me,” she said, even closer to his ear now. “I get it. It’s your job. I’m just trying to enjoy the last few hours I have left before…” She trailed off. “Before it’s going to really be awful.” 

“This isn’t awful for you?” He did not sound desperate, he did not. He sounded controlled, dispassionately curious. 

“Hardly! I’ve been treated better here than some places I’ve been. You’ve been nothing but courteous! If the destination wasn’t what it was, and if I weren’t handcuffed, this would be a pleasant journey!” 

He huffed, but didn’t say anything. 

“I’m serious! This is the most luxurious travel I’ve ever had. Sure, you handcuff me to my bed and, infuriatingly, do nothing about it, but it beats steerage on a carrier ship! There I had a lower bunk on a four person bunk and couldn’t stretch without hitting someone, and I felt I was swimming in everyone’s farts. And the food was overpriced for what I can generously call slop. No, this is much roomier and better.” 

Mando huffed a tiny bit in amusement. “You’re really wanting me to… do something when you’re handcuffed to the bed.” It was almost a question, almost a fear. 

“Yes,” she replied, exasperated. She was much closer now, almost at his ear, and he turned in surprise, looking at her. (Chains at his throat, pressure until he stopped breathing-- so many ways she could kill him, and yet.) And yet when she looked back at him she smiled. “I would love to do something with you. I could even be unhandcuffed, you know-- work your cock with my hands, my lips, grab your armored ass as you pound into me.” She grinned. "We can even have sex however your kind does it!"

"I'm human," he replied, flatly.

"Even better! I know how we do sex! I even know fun positions!"

Mando’s eyes unfocused, seeing it in all too muddled clarity, like a dream he’s had before but can’t remember having, naked limbs and sweat and grunts. And then snapped back to focus to see her smirking like a Loth-cat that still had feathers sticking out of its maw, and he lurched out of his chair. 

“Stop trying to seduce me, it’s not going to work.” He reached for her wrists, meaning to drag her into the carbon freeze, politeness be damned, but she leaned out of his reach. He took another step towards her.

“What, you think I think you’re weak enough to let me go just because I asked?” She argued back, eyeing the control panel before grabbing the back of his chair and stepping onto its seat, hitting her head hard against the metal. She swore violently, glaring up at the ceiling and then back at him. “You really think I disrespect you and your gallant profession that I’m going to tempt you to not do it? No!” She swayed awkwardly in the pilot’s chair. 

“Then what?” He shouted back, finally grabbing her hands and holding her steady. 

“Sometimes a woman just wants a good fuck before she dies!” she shouted. 

Mando didn’t know what to say to that. As they both panted, glaring at each other, he could hear the silence between them louder than the hums of his ship. 

Avaath (not the Acquisition) was the first to break the silence. “If you want, I can drop it,” she said quietly, looking down into his helmet. “But I would choose that, if I had one last wish as a dying woman.” 

“Get down from the chair,” he said. 

She reluctantly stepped down and stood in front of him, his hands still holding her handcuffs. She searched his helmet in futility to try to find his eyes. 

There were times Mando didn’t mind his helmet. And times like this where he was grateful, because it gave him time to wrack his brain on what to do while she stood there, expectantly. There was much to consider. She wanted it, she claimed, and while that eased his worries it didn’t nullify the shadow of them. “If-- and this is an if-- if we do fuck,” he said, tasting out that vulgar word that he’d never thought he’d get to use in connection to his own desires and body, “will you tell anyone?” 

“Not a single person,” she replied, clearly trying to look like she wasn’t thrilled. 

“And you’re sure you want this?” He had to know. 

“I’m very sure I want this,” she replied somberly. “If you’d like me to put it in writing I will.” 

He shook his head. “No, no that won’t be necessary.” He looked down at her wrists and tried to hold them in a less cruel way, which, there really wasn’t. Finally he let her go and nodded. “Yes. I would like to fuck with you.” 

She snorted. “Wrong phrasing, but you got it.” She grinned, and looked around. “Should we do it here?” 

“No, in my quarters,” he said, thickly, everything suddenly rushing in his body as he came to realize it was going to happen. Was this a mistake? He watched her lick her lips and thought of things those lips could do and decided that if it was a mistake, it was one he was going to make with his eyes open. (And helmeted.) 

“Shall we then?” Avaath asked, nodding to the hatch. 

“Uh. Oh, sure,” he said, and led her down the ladder, and to his quarters, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it. 

\----

Avaath could barely contain her excitement, and she bounced on the balls of her feet while he climbed down the ladder to face her. He awkwardly tilted his helmet at the entrance of his quarters. She tried her best to look interesting, despite wearing her stained work uniform for a total of 36 hours, and primping her hair as best she could with her hands still handcuffed, but it would have to do. She would just have to make up for it. 

She licked her lips again, and sashayed through the tiny corridor to find a small utilitarian quarter. On the right side of the wall were tools and beeping equipment that she recognized as being for food preparation, and on the left, sealed cabinets set into the wall of the spacecraft. On the far back was the bed, a full sized bed that was neatly made. Not for long. 

He followed her closely and they stood there for a moment, pausing on the precipice before everything between them changed. (Or had it already?) She cleared her throat and held up her handcuffs. “May I have these off? They’re going to get in the way of all the ways I plan on seducing you with my wicked ways.” 

He chuckled once-- once!!-- and Avaath thought she might fall in love. He quickly unhandcuffed her and she rubbed her wrists for a moment before sighing. “Now. Tell me again. You don’t want to take off your helmet.”

“No.” 

“But you can take off your armor?” 

“I’d… prefer not to,” he admitted.

“In case I start shooting at you somehow, right? No matter, I love clothed sex.” She stretched her shoulders, cracking her spine, twisted as much as she could. “As for me, would you prefer my clothes stay on as well?” 

“That’s your choice,” he replied. 

“So sweet,” she teased, and pointed to the bed. “Sit down.” 

He hesitated for half a heartbeat before sitting on the bed with his legs spread, facing her. She knelt in front of him and winked, before looking at the crux of his breeches. She could feel his warmth and smell of leather and sweat and soap, and her jaw ached with longing. Avaath bent, kissing the seam of his breeches and finding, pleasantly, the warm bulge underneath. She kissed it again, and looked up with wide eyes at the Mandalorian, whose helmet was bent, watching her. “May I release the beast?” She teased. 

The Mandalorian nodded, and fumbled with his gloved fingers to untie the breeches and brought his stiffening cock out. The skin was tan, but the swelling color turned the cock a richer pink by the moment. She smiled at it, and at him. “You’re beautiful. You were hiding this from me this whole time?” She teased, and kissed the head of his cock. “You know, they say the tip of a man’s cock is the same color as his lips.” She kissed his cockhead again, soft and sweet, and then half rose to kiss his helmet, where she guessed where his lips would be, leaving a kiss mark. “I’ll just pretend that I’m kissing your lips, then.”

A small sound exited the helmet, but she wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not. “Everything okay?” She asked, gently. 

“Yes,” he replied, his voice sounding tighter. 

“I’m glad. Let me know if you want me to do more or less of something, Mandalorian, I aim to make this a pleasant experience for both of us.” She knelt down once again, and brushed back her hair before facing his dick. In terms of dicks, it was a rather nice one: long and thick, but not overly so, and hardening. Her mouth watered for a taste, and she kissed the head again before touching it lightly with her tongue. He tasted good, a hint of sweat and leather and male heat. She hummed with approval and looked up to the Mandalorian’s helmet as she took a broader, more confident lick on the sensitive underside. The Mandalorian shuddered and shifted, his legs opening wider, and Avaath smirked, pleased with her work.

She licked all over his cock, even dabbling a bit with his balls as she hummed and licked in pleasure. She really did enjoy this, giving blowjobs--it felt like a fun exercise before the main treat-- and the Mandalorian was enjoying himself too. His hands twitched on his legs where they rested, and he shuddered and gave the slightest buck up as she sucked on his cockhead, softly and then hard, good enough that he started to moan, just under his breath. 

It wasn’t until she swallowed him, her mouth grazing his root and her nose touching his stomach, that he moaned louder and silenced himself, almost like he was afraid of it. His hands clenched into fists, and Avaath rolled her eyes affectionately and detached, panting. She put one of his hands on the back of her head, clutching her hair, and said hoarsely, “You can hold my hair and direct me,” before going back to it, moving up and down his length and varying her speed, faster here, slower there. He seemed to be shocked by his hand being allowed on her hair, for he barely moved it before she reached under him to fondle his balls, rolling the two sacs against each other delicately. He moaned louder and started to guide her mouth in earnest, setting a brisk but steady pace. Avaath let him guide her mouth, moaning with him as he guided her faster and faster until he held her fast to his stomach, shuddering, and came down her throat, throbbing and twitching all the while. She breathed through her nose for a moment or two afterwards before tapping his wrist, and he jerked and released her, letting her breathe. 

She cleared her throat, swallowing his cum and grinned up at him. “Long time for you, then, yeah?” 

“Sorry,” he murmured, his hands now awkwardly back on his legs. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, I liked it,” she replied, and leaned up to give him a kiss again. “Feel better?” 

“Yes,” he said, sighing, before admitting, “It had been a long time.” 

“That’s alright, Mandalorian,” she said, and stood up before beginning to undress herself, putting her clothes in an untidy pile on the floor next to the bed. Avaath busied herself with this work, bending as she took off her unbeautiful undergarments, before glancing over coquettishly to see the Mandalorian watching her. She smirked and stood before him, watching his helmet look her up and down. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said, haltingly, and she preened pleasantly before nodding to the bed. “Lay down for me.” He obeyed, shuffling onto the bed lengthwise so he would fit.

She smiled, more to herself than him, and sat down next to him, the armor plate on his thigh cold against her hip. “Now, usually,” she started, trailing a finger along his cock, feeling it twitch as it tried to recover. “I like to receive after giving, and ride my partner’s mouth, but that won’t work in this case.” 

“No, it won’t,” the Mandalorian replied. His hands, folded neatly on his stomach, shifted. “Is there something else we can do?” 

“Many things,” Avaath replied, and crawled onto the bed until she was straddling his stomach. She rolled her hips around experimentally on his leather jerkin. “Touch me.” 

He put his hands on her waist, like a noble young thing, and Avaath could barely keep her amused smile off her face. “Sweetness. No, no, here,” she said, and brought one hand to her pussy, reaching her curls and going lower. She lifted herself and brought his gloved hand to her lips. There was something unbearably sexy about his gloves, she thought, as he gently and tepidly fiddled around her lips. He brushed against her clit and she gasped, grinding down. “More of that,” she commanded, and he obliged, pressing into her clit and rolling it to and fro. “Very good, just like that,” she directed, bouncing to help him find that sweet narrow beam of pleasure. After a few moments she touched his hand. “Fuck me,” she said. 

“I’m, uh, not ready yet,” said the Mandalorian, and she shook her head. 

“No, no, with your fingers.” She scooted in closer, and took the clever clit finding hand and curled it in a fist, with one finger up. “Gentle at first,” she warned, and felt around with his hand until he had found her hole, wet already, and she sighed with pleasure. “There. More.” 

He nudged her on her knees, above his stomach, and touched her, timid at first but getting the hang of it as he moved the one knuckle up and down, barely fucking her. She winced as he did-- she had underestimated how wet she was--and he sighed, leaving her pussy and tugging off the gloves. Now, with his bared hands--and how incredibly sexy those hands were, to be hidden and then bared-- he held her more confidently, his warm smooth hand on her hip and then feeling for her clit before finding it by her sharp inhale and rubbing harder, quicker. “Good?” He asked, and Avaath nodded fervently. 

“Good,” he said, and moved her up to her knees again. “Up.” She did so, and he played with her pussy lips again before probing for her hole, and sliding into it, first knuckle, then second, then to the last. “Good?” 

“Good. Move more,” she demanded, arching her hips. 

“Yes.” He slowly almost exited her, and then moved into her, faster. 

“More! Faster!” 

He did so, fucking into her (thank goodness) harder and faster, until she was wet and feeling empty still. “More fingers,” she gasped, and he introduced another finger to the mix, slowly spreading her and letting her adjust before fucking her with the same pace as before. They were both panting with exertion when Avaath gripped his arm to stop him, and she pulled off his fingers-- lovely that they were-- and found his dick ready and waiting for her. “Ah! My seat,” she teased, and straddled him before guiding him into her pussy. 

___

Mando was dying. This was sublime heaven, this was unreal, this was… he didn’t have enough hands that he wanted to touch her with, didn’t know enough of what to do with his hands now that they weren’t in her. He could smell her most intimate scent everywhere, and if he lifted his helmet he could reach under and taste her on his fingers. 

He expected… something. Not what this was. Avaath was using him, but giving as well, and there was freedom in that, in a meeting of mutual interest and desires. 

And as Avaath guided him into her vagina, he had to curl his sticky fingers into his bedsheets because she was hot tight wet and he couldn’t last very long like this-- 

\--Avaath sat down on his dick, eyelids fluttering as she adjusted to him. He could feel the walls of her vagina fluttering around him as well, as she shifted and moved on him. She gingerly moved up an inch, and down an inch, making soft sounds in her throat; Mando held himself tight as a bow, trying not to reach his precipice so soon. (He didn’t know that much about sexual relations but he did know a second was too short to ejaculate without mockery.) 

Avaath opened her eyes, and grinned openmouthed and crooked. “Mandalorian, you feel divine,” she said, before fucking herself more on his cock, moving up and down slowly at first, then faster and faster, harder, moaning all the while. 

Mando was breathless, or rather, his breath was taken, stolen by her actions and her moaning, and everything happening, which somehow felt too much and not enough all at the same time. Delayed, he realized he could move as well, and did what seemed most natural to him-- holding her hips and fucking into her as much as she was fucking down on him, his hips pistoning up. She squealed and threw her head back, holding her breasts and pinching her nipples. 

He thrust up harder than before and she gasped, falling on his chest with an oomph, and then even more surprising, a snort. “Not the most graceful,” she said, and kissed his armored chest before hefting herself back up and settling herself back on his dick. “Doing alright?”

“Yes,” he replied, and cleared his throat. When did he get so sweaty? And panting? “You?” 

“Wonderful,” she said, and leaned over him, bracing her arms by his sides. “Hold my tits.” 

“Yes.” He cupped the soft warm swells, admiring that her breasts fit perfectly in his palms, the weight of them feeling right somehow. 

She grinned and shifted. This time, he could feel her damp curls against his groin, lightly pressing down before she rose on him and crashed down again. And this time, he understood how she liked it, how sex with her was going to go, and he thrust up on her downstroke, causing her to grunt with surprise. They moved discordently for a moment or two before they met each other at the joining. 

Avaath’s thighs were trembling on either side, and she panted and moaned louder, her voice taking on a higher, almost singsong quality as she rhymtically sang “Ahh-ahh-ahh!” She was close to orgasm, Mando thought, and hoped, almost selfishly, to have put her so close to the precipice. He was close, too, but more than his own orgasm he was determined to give her hers first. He released her breasts to swing beautifully in front of his helmet to hold her waist with one hand and dip between the crux of her lips with the other, to find that hidden pearl. Finding it, he rubbed in the tight, hard circles she had taught him, causing her to throw her head back, her lovely neck bared as she moaned loudly. She froze, clutching at his chest armor and her thighs tightening around him, her vagina fluttering and spasming around his cock. It was too much for him to handle, and he came in her, shuddering with his release. 

She collapsed on him, his softened cock slipping out of her warmth to the cool air. "Wow," she panted, looking into his helmet again, still searching for his eyes. "That was… that was wonderful."

"Yes, it was," he agreed, wrapping an arm around her as she caught her breath. Through the cloth portion of his armor he could feel her heat, and it felt soothing in a way he did not suspect. Now that they had been intimate, he regretted not taking off his armor, if only so that he could touch her more, hold her warm body to his in a gesture of mutual satisfaction. 

He did not kid himself into thinking he was in love. But there was something sweet in the act he could not name, nor escape. Nor did he necessarily want to. 

Avaath rose up from his chest and smiled, dopily, sleepily, and kissed his helmet again, off to the side where his cheek would be. The ghost of it warmed his protected cheek. "thank you," she said, and rolled off of him onto the bed, between himself and the wall, and curled next to him, her body still pressed against him. "That was superb, I'm still shaking." 

"Me too," he said, and they lay together for a moment or two, still catching their breath. Mando was debating touching her again when she cleared her throat. "What do you say about one more round?"

Later, after they had been intimate twice more, Avaath stumbled off to the shower. Mando stripped the bed of the dirtied sheets, where her wetness had mixed with his ejaculation. He kept an ear out, but Avaath stayed in the shower until roughly five minutes had passed. He listened to her turn off the showers, pause for a moment or two, and finally return to the cabin, still naked but with her hair wet. "Your turn," she teased sleepily, and Mando nodded. . 

"Get some sleep,” he said, softly. “The sheets are clean.” 

The smile she gave him was relieved and grateful, and twisted his heart. “Thank you.” She crawled under the sheets and settled in. 

Mando really shouldn’t leave her like this. He really shouldn’t give her free rein at all. But as he set up his security cams before walking into the showers, he wondered if he really needed to bother. 

He cleaned his armor quickly, and washed his body even quicker, wanting to get back to her, to see what she would do. Before he put on his helmet, he paused, and considered what she might say if he kept it off. She had said many complimentary things during their acts; how good his hands were, how beautiful his cock, how thick and powerful his legs were. What if he--

No. She was not a Mandalorian, and it was not the way. 

Still. That thought lingered as he finished in the shower, dried off, and returned to his quarters to find her still there, tucked against the plain wall, curled sweetly on the corner of his pillow. Her eyes blinked open when he laid down next to her, above the sheets. “Hi,” she breathed, and leaned on his pauldron. 

“Sleep,” he advised, and she gave the tiniest nod and relaxed, falling asleep within minutes. 

Mando made himself comfortable, and, with the knowledge that he would absolutely wake up if she moved, fell asleep soundly. 

He woke up to a buzzing and ringing, and Avaath, still under the covers, was tapping his shoulder. “There’s a comm,” she said, eyes half lidded with sleep. 

He turned his helmet to the sound and nodded. "Yes. Go back to sleep.” He rose, and headed to the cockpit, hearing her respond sleepily, cheekily, "Will do, Mandalorian." 

He smiled behind his helmet, but dropped it as he climbed up to the cockpit, focused now. A comm from Greef Karga. What time was it? 

“Thanks for finally answering my call,” Karga said wrily. 

Mando sighed to himself. “What is it?”

“It’s the commission. They want to meet you at another location. I'm sending it to you now." 

"What's wrong with Nevarro?" Another location was an odd choice. What did it mean?

"No idea. But they're willing to pay you an extra third if you do this for them."

"Who are these guys?" He asked. His ship received the transmission, and he pulled up the information. It was some backwater planet that was closer to them, but had less 

"The Gzan Gang? Not really sure. But it doesn't really matter- get to the location and finish the job."

The comm shut off, leaving the ship in relative silence. Except there was a creak where there shouldn’t have been, right under the ladder. 

Mando crept back to the cabin, alert once more, to find her seated fully clothed on the bed, a blaster pressed to her temple. 

He froze. “M-Avaath, what are you doing?”

“Mandalorian, I can’t do this.” She shuddered, the blaster next to her head trembling. “I don’t know what they have planned, but it’s not going to be good, and-- fuck, I don’t want to be there,” she said, looking up at him with wide, watery eyes. “And I just… I can’t pull the trigger,” she said, finally starting to cry in big, deep, scared sobs. She bent her head, crying into her hand. 

Mando neared her, and reached for the blaster, when she looked up, eyes full of tears. She handed it to him, butt first. “Mandalorian, please. If you have any decency in you-- please,” she breathed. “Please kill me.” 

“I’m not going to kill you.” Mando firmly plucked the blaster out of her hands and tucked away in one of his pockets. “This isn’t the way.” And quieter: “I’m sorry, Avaath. It has to happen.” 

Her eyes welled up with tears again, and she bent, holding herself tightly. “I know,” she choked, and sobbed loudly, crying to herself.

Mando didn’t know what to do, and suddenly all of that easy intimacy from last night was gone-- he couldn’t just touch her now, he was supposed to bring her back to the Gzan Gang. Finally, against the churning feeling in his gut, he settled on touching her shoulder as gently as he could, realizing that his hands were still ungloved from their earlier tryst. 

Once he did, she looked up, almost surprised he was still there, and wiped away her tears (and sniffed in snot). Her voice still tight, she said, “I know. I know.” She sighed, and looked back on the bed. “I guess I shouldn’t stay here the rest of the night.” She rose, stumbling a little. 

Mando paused, trying to force the words out from his throat. “No, I’m afraid not.” He cleared his throat. “But it’s almost time to wake up, anyway. Here.” He rustled around in his cabinets and handed her another protein cube. “Eat this. You’ll want your strength for today.”

She looked at the cube in her hands and nodded, pensive. “Yes… I suppose I will.” She looked up again, looking at Mando. Her eyes watered again--or they never stopped. “Thank you. For your kindness.” She held out her wrists. “We better make it official, again, right?” 

Mando handcuffed her again, silently. “It’ll be over in a few hours,” he murmured, but wasn’t sure if it was to her or to himself. 

Avaath put on a brave face, and nodded. 

The second location was on another planet, no more than an hour of flight further, which Mando knew from personal experience had little to recommend it. Another desert planet, full of cliffs and craters, whose only lifeforms were of the non-sentient kinds. 

In other words, a great place to make a drop off. Or an ambush. 

At the landing point, Mando saw a gunship, not unlike his own Razor Crest, the hatch opened and at least three people waiting about. Seemed a lot for one woman, he thought bitterly, but he landed in front of them. He turned to Avaath, who watched the three with dispassionate interest, as if she were removed from the situation. 

“Avaath,” he said, softly, and she looked at him with hollow eyes. “I just want to say--” he paused, and everything he wanted to say felt impossible, too cliche, too new and scary in his chest. “...that it was an honor being your bounty hunter.” 

She gave him a look of disbelief, and then a corner of her mouth turned up into something like a shellshocked smile. “It was an honor being your acquisition,” she said, and winked. “And you should go forward knowing that you are a very, very good lay.” 

He chuckled. She brushed the crumbs off of her face and chest and stood up. “Alright. Let’s go meet my ex boyfriend.” 

Mando walked alongside her down the hatch into the sunlight. She hesitated as the three men approached her, smiling with teeth. “Well well! If it isn’t my little fabool,” the one in front said, and bent to give her a kiss. She ducked out of his way, and he grabbed her by the waist and wrist and hissed in her ear, “No more funny business, got that?” Louder, he added, “I want you nice all the way back home. If not, you know Yad and Dalt, they love reminding you, don’t they?” 

The two brutes in the back grinned, and the lead man-- Kevtuck, if Mando had to guess-- pushed her to them, causing her to cry out and stumble. She fell on her knees, and Yad and Dalt pushed her up from under her arms and marched her to the ship. 

Mando forced himself to unclench his fists, but there was no unclenching his jaw. Before he could stop himself, he asked, “What are you planning on doing with her?” 

Kevtuck looked back, almost as if he had forgotten he was there. “No questions asked, right?” He shrugged. “She doesn’t look like it, but she was one of my biggest assets. She knows how to do business,” he said, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. “She was my highest earner before she up and left me. Thought she could go fuck herself, we’d be fine, but fuck if we don’t need her.” He tapped his head. “It’s all her mind. Sharp as a knife, but damn if it don’t get her in trouble with me. But it’s okay, Yad and Dalt love helping her remember.”

She screamed inside the ship, and Mando started before he could stop himself. Kevtuck looked pleased at the ship, and then back at him, less pleased. “Oh, woah- you care about what happens to her?” He took a step closer, pointing a finger into his breastplate. “What, you fucked her or something? Is that it?”

Mando said nothing, which of course this shitstain of a human took to mean the affirmative. “You did fuck her! You nasty little slug, this is some awful bounty hunting-- I think I should tell the guild, I’m sure they’d be real pleased with you fucking your prisoners.” He stabbed his finger again into his breastplate. Mando thought tenderly of snapping the digit in half. “You know, I don’t even think I should pay you for such lousy work.” 

This time Mando didn’t bother to stop himself, and snatched Kevtuck’s wrist. “I want to be paid,” he growled. 

“Yeah? Well I didn’t want my girlfriend fucked,” he spat, and darted for the blaster on his opposite side.

Kevtuck stretched uselessly to reach for his holster on the other side, giving Mando enough time to roll his eyes and knee him hard in the groin. The other man crumpled, and Mando did a cursory check on his pockets to see-- nope, no credits. Was he even planning on paying him? He stepped on his groin, pleased to hear the bleating that came out of the man, and then stomped on his wrist. 

No pay, no acquisition. 

He slipped onto the hatch and found the empty cargo hold, where Avaath hung from her wrists from the ceiling, looking at him with admiration. “You came,” she breathed. She had a bruised and puffy eye, but from what he could see, there was no other marks. 

He put a finger to his helmet, and unhooked her. She gave a shuddering sigh of relief, and held up her wrists. “Uncuff me.” 

“No.” He hissed, “You were in on this the whole time.”

“What?” She hissed back, but her eyes widened as she looked behind him. He spun and punched Dolt or Yale, whichever, who fell against the wall, shouting. The other man shot at him, which he dodged, and shot back squarely in the chest. The man stilled, but the noise had drawn out the other man, who came barreling down and shoved Mando away. The new man (Dale? Yen?) snarled, his blaster drawn, getting closer. 

They circled each other around the cargo hold, eyes narrowed, until the man lurched backwards, choking, handcuffs pressed hard to his neck. “Shoot him.”

So Mando did. 

The man collapsed, and Avaath stood, triumphant. 

Mando lowered his gun… but he wasn’t sure he should. “You weren’t just his girlfriend,” he accused. “You were part of his gang.”

She sighed, deeply. “Yes. Until I wanted out.” She held up her wrists. “Please?” 

“Why should I trust you?” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t,” Kevtuck said, holding his blaster to her head and wrapping his arm (with his limp wrist) around her waist, hiding behind her body. “This little bitch is one of the trickiest slugs you’ve ever met, aren’t ya babe?” he hissed in her ear, before licking her neck from shoulder to ear. 

She shuddered. “Kev. Let me go, you don’t want me.” 

“You’re right, I don’t.” He jutted his chin at Mando. “But he does. And you know me, sweetling, I don’t share well.” 

Avaath looked at Mando, and for a moment he couldn’t what she was thinking, before she sighed and said, “Hey Kev?” 

“Hmm?”

“Get fucked.” She kicked out behind her, causing him to lose his footing. They tumbled down the hatch together, but before Mando could try to pull them apart she had wrestled from underneath him and sat on his chest, swinging her still cuffed wrists directly into his face. Kevtuck snarled and rolled them over so she was below him. Avaath screamed and cursed like a wild animal, kneeing Kevtuck in his groin and pushing him off of her before launching at him again, sitting on his chest and continuing to bash him in the face. Mando thought he knew most of the vicious words in common languages, but Avaath provided a free education, spewing row after row of the most profane language he’d ever heard. 

Mando did pull her off of him, but only after she was starting to tire, covered in blood and gore and panting, eyes focused on the man. 

“He’s dead, you can stop now,” Mando tried to soothe. 

She shook her head hard. “Give me your blaster.” When he hesitated she shot him a look that said she was willing to make him a second victim. “Now.”

He handed the blaster to her, her hands slippery with blood. She held it firmly and nodded, before firing into the dead man’s head, chest, and several shots in his groin. Once the deed was done, she took a deep breath and released it, all of the tension bleeding out of her. She handed the blaster back with a small, tired grin. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He reholstered the sticky blaster with the slightest grimace, thinking of all the cleaning he would have to do. Mando looked around the smoking bodies, the empty cargo hold. “Is that everyone?” 

“As far as I saw.” She had collected herself, gore still dripping in sticky goops down on the rocky terrain. She looked into the ship, eyes narrowed. “He rarely went out without those two animals, but I guess this was more important than extra guards.” She proffered her hands. “Please let me go?”

He finally did so. There were thick, ugly purple bruises under raw, scraped skin surrounding her wrists. She rubbed them as she was freed, her eyebrows furrowed. Mando had half a mind to take a step back and draw a blaster, but she sighed heavily and stomped into the cargo hold again. She rummaged in one of the men’s holsters and found a blaster.

Mando followed her cautiously, blaster drawn. “What are you going to do?” 

She turned to him, blaster pointed down. “Check to see if there are more here. There shouldn’t be, but he liked extra guards if he expected trouble. Which, he should have, considering your talents, but there’s no arguing with a dead man,” she said, and nodded at the rest of the ship. “Follow me?”

He didn’t have to get involved. He didn’t have to help someone who was so cavalier about her criminality, who used him as a prop and a weapon and a warm penis. 

But the way she moved now, all confidence and easy with a blaster, was so perplexing from what he had expected that he followed her. 

They made quick work of the ship-- and to Avaath’s apparent disapproval, the entire ship was empty of all life forms. “Fucking idiot,” she muttered, going back to the cargo hold. “More balls than sense, and less sense than preservation.” She started undressing one of the men, efficiently taking blasters, holsters, shirt and pants, before going to the next one and feeling around his pockets. “At least it helped us out.”

Mando stood back and watched her scavenge off the dead. “Us?” 

“Yes. We played it off beautifully.”

“‘We?’ You lied to me, tricked me into saving you.” He drew his gun and pointed it to her head. “What was all this about? Who are you?” 

She narrowed her eyes at the gun, then to him, before dropping her findings and raising her hands slowly. “Mandalorian, nothing what I told you was a lie,” she said cautiously, looking straight into his helmet now. How she could keep not knowing where to look but still give him a hurt, serious expression was nothing short of magic, or manipulation. “Kevtuck was my boyfriend. He hurt me, so I ran away.” 

“You didn’t tell me you were part of his organization,” Mando hissed. 

“No. I didn’t. I knew you wouldn’t look well on me if I had told you.” 

“So you lied.” 

“No, I just hid part of the truth. It didn’t change anything--”

“--it changed everything! How could it not change everything?”

She paused for a moment, and sighed. “No. It did change everything. That’s why I didn’t tell you. But it didn’t change my feelings for you, or--”

“Knock it off. You don’t care about me, you used me!” 

“And if I had?” She hissed back. “I pegged you for exactly the kind of man you were and told you everything that would appeal to your sense of honor? If I had not, if I had asked you baldly to save me from my ex-boyfriend-slash-gang leader, if I had told you I knew from the very moment I saw you that Kevtuck would never pay you, that you would be stuck with a carbon-frozen acquisition? What then? You would have thrown me out the airlock, you would have killed me, or left me like yesterday’s trash on some forsaken wasteland.” 

They were both left panting and angry. She was… probably right, he could admit. He would have thrown her in the carbon-freeze as soon as she said she was a former member of the Gzan Gang, not just a misfortunate girlfriend. Something stuck in his mind. “You knew he was going to cheat me?” 

“Yes.” She gave a small nod. “Kevtuck wasn’t the smartest of people, but he was definitely one of the cheapest. He must have thought that between himself, Dalt and Yad, he could take you.”

“That was stupid.” He put down his blaster slowly, and Avaath breathed out deeply, her shoulders relaxing. 

“Yeah. More balls than brains. I felt like I was always the one keeping him alive when we were together, always reminding him not to fight with the big boys.” She looked sad, reminscing. About what, he couldn’t imagine. 

“You could have told me sooner that he wasn’t going to pay.” 

“Probably.” She bent slowly, painfully, to gather the things she had dropped. “But then if he had? You would have let me go, and thought that I was lying to you.” 

“Hmm.” 

Avaath hmmed back, and began to strip out of her greasy clothes, right there in the cargo load with the hatch open to the elements.

“What are you doing?” Mando asked, shifting around to give her privacy. He paused, and turned around again, watching in case she went for the gun-- but instead he saw the bruises on her ribs that hadn’t been there last night. He gritted his teeth. 

“I’ve been wearing the same outfit for three days, and it was ugly.” She slipped the bigger man’s shirt over her, and belted his pants tightly to her waist. He couldn’t tell if he liked the look on her, or if she looked like a child pretending to be her father. “In any case, he’s not going to use them.” She nodded at him. “Help me push them out?” 

They rolled the bodies out of the ship and down the hatch like sacks of potatoes, where they joined Kevtuck in a lumpy pile. Once done, Avaath wiped her hands together and flicked them, like expelling water droplets. “Begone, thou wretched villains,” she intoned, before nodding and heading back into the ship. She pressed a security pad on the wall, and scowled when it showed red.

Mando followed her, curious and not a little annoyed. “What are you going to do now?” 

“Been thinking about running my own business.” She pressed another combination, sliding open a panel revealing a couple of crates and four fist-sized stuffed satchels. She grinned, and opened one of the satchels and showed him the credits, shifting and glittering in the sunlight.

“I thought you said he was cheap.”

“I said he was cheap, not that he didn’t have money.” She peered in every satchel, nodding to herself, before handing him two. “Your payment.”

“I didn’t earn these,” he argued, trying to hand them back. When she crossed her arms, he put the satchels on top of the crate. 

“Yes you did, you hunted me down and brought me to the client. Take them. It’ll pay for fuel and all the protein cubes I ate.”

Mando paused. “I don’t take Imperial credits.” 

Avaath untied the drawstring of a satchel full of Calamari Flan, and another full of golden Wupiupi. “Do you take these?” 

“Those will do,” he replied primly. “But that’s still too much for your bounty.”

“With all the trouble I gave you? All the kicking and screaming and carrying on?” She teased, handing him the satchels. "Please, take them. In payment for my using you."

He accepted them begrudgingly. "You can use Imperial credits?"

"Kijimi has an awful, convoluted economy and it'll take us months to finally get rid of Imperial credits," she said, opening the crates a crack. Mando saw only straw, but Avaath made a pleased sound. She shut the crate and then the safe. 

"So. You're going back to Kijimi?"

She shrugged. "It's ripe for a bit of working. Criminals, smugglers, every kind of disreputable person you can imagine is there--which is my entire clientele at the moment." She bit her bottom lip. "Plus, I don't think I can reasonably go back to Cantonica."

They looked out the hatch, where the bodies of the men they killed were starting to collect flies. 

"Sounds smart." 

She grinned. "I thought so." She looked up to the cockpit, and back to him. "Thank you for helping me. I appreciate it."

He nodded, unused to such personal thanks. From an acquisition, no less. "I needed the coin."

She chuckled softly. "Well, I wish you the best of luck bounty hunting."

Mando stayed quiet, and looked up to the cockpit himself. "You know how to fly this, right?"

"Technically," she said flippantly. "I've watched enough people to get an idea." 

Mando's eyes widened behind his helmet in horror. He let out a long sigh. "That's horrifying. Please let me teach you. It'll cover the rest of the flan." 

She paused, considering, and nodded once decisively. "Okay. But only if you let me feed you something more than protein cubes. Kevtuck always had something delicious near him, he hated to be practical."

Mando snorted, and Avaath's eyes lit up at the sound. "It's a deal."

\--

Much later, after a few wobbly starts and wobbly landings and wobbly laps around the planet, Avaath felt confident enough that she could at least get herself to Kijimi. As for the Mandalorian, he no longer seemed so terrified to be out in space with her flying. "If you'd like, I could tail you, make sure you get there," he offered after her third (less shaky) landing. 

She waved him off. "You have a job to get back to, and so do I," she informed him primly. "I'll be fine." She looked back at him and his still infuriatingly impassive helmet-- but the man was not devoid of emotions, as he might want to be. “I’ll comm you when I’m home, mother,” she teased. 

Mando shook his head slightly and sighed, but under that sigh she would have sworn she heard a chuckle. 

At the opened hatch, Mando offered, “Be careful. And watch for that trick landing.”

She tucked her hands in her back pocket, hoping for a casual look. “I will. Thank you for saving me. And fucking me.”

The Mandalorian stomped back to face her, towering over her by hand’s length. “You can’t tell anyone that we were intimate while you were an acquistion.”

She scraped the back of her thumb across her lips, making an x. “I’ll never tell a single person.” 

He paused. “And how do I know you’ll keep that promise?”

“Fair. You can tell because you did me an incredible favor, and I will never forget it,” she replied. 

He considered this, and nodded. “Then the deal is struck.” 

She nodded. “The deal is struck.” She bowed her head further. “It was an honor being your acquisition.” 

“It was an honor hunting you.” They nodded at each other definitively, pointedly, but Avaath couldn’t help but miss him already as he turned away.

“Hey, Mandalorian?” She called out, just as he began to clomp down the metal ramp. He turned, and she grinned. “Feel free to visit me sometime in Kijimi.”

“Why?” He asked. Clearly, someone was not a fan of the icy planet. 

“Because I’d love to show you all the other tricks I know.” She waggled her eyebrows. 

Instead of dignifying that with a response, the Mandalorian shook his head and turned away, stomping the rest of the way back to his own ship. 

Avaath chuckled to herself, and prepared to fly one more time. As she settled in the pilot’s chair, she watched the Mandalorian’s Razor Crest fly off gracefully, and make an almost pointed turn in the other direction. She smiled, and set her sights on Kijimi. 

She gave him a year before he came by.


End file.
